Thursday April 8, 1976

Helen Lockyer, 22. She is getting married on Spring Bank Holiday Monday at the end of May and is departing from our midst to reside in Gloucester for the rest of her married life. Sad when people from 'our circle' marry and depart. It seems to be catching on.

Even June Bottomley is engaged to be married. Chris and Christine saw her in Horsforth last Friday night and she gave them a flash of her ring. He's an accountant or something. I wish her all the luck in the world anyway, because I will always be very fond of her even if she did muck me about all those years ago - well, two actually.

Out with Mum and Dad to the Hare & Hounds. Meet Carole outside and Helen and Shirley inside. John comes alone at about 9 o'clock. I get a little canned trying to keep up with Papa, who is working at 10 o'clock. Quite a merry night it turns out to be. Judith R and Kathryn walked in at 10. J came back from Birmingham on Sunday and the break with Terry is for good I think. Kathryn brings me home in her mini and we - the three of us -have a coffee until after midnight.

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Tuesday February 3, 1976

Busy day at work. Kathleen gets on my nerves at times. She fusses over such ridiculous things. Frustrated - that's what she is. A man would do her the world of good. Maybe a little crude, but true.

Sarah says Delia is planning for the day when I move into her place as a lodger. I thought they were having me on about this, but I actually think they would like me to stay there Monday-Friday when Mum & Dad go to Kirby Malzeard. That's if they ever do go to the Henry Jenkins Inn.

Carole rings this evening - 8.50 actually. She has one of her headaches. These crop up every couple of months or so. I can't figure it out how they keep recurring.

George Waite calls in to see John & is surprised to hear that J is going to beat him to the altar. George is getting married on June 19.

See "Fawlty Towers" starring John Cleese which is fantastically funny. Much better than 'Monty Python' because it's much more mature.

This Jeremy Thorpe affair makes me laugh. I'll write more on the subject later, but you mark my words when I say Jeremy is more involved than he cares to admit. Much, much more.

Bed at about 11.30.



--==--

Friday January 30, 1976

January has certainly been a hectic and eventful month. To make matters worse Helen L came in tonight sporting an engagement ring from her boyfriend in Worcester, and the shock of both Helen and John's news proved too much for CD to bear. She was near to tears and needed a few strong drinks to revive her.

Carole was quiet again. John says it's because Maria has not asked her to play at bridesmaids, but I cannot believe she'd be so childish. Her mood is because John & Maria's future seems secured, whilst ours just meanders along. Her childishness at times staggers me and makes me say and do rash things that I regret.

I come home with John and Maria in the spitfire at about 11.15 and sit brooding in the dining room about Carole. I just don't want to see her again. A clean sweep will make things better. Oh I don't know really. Is it just a phase I'm going through?


to be continued

Saturday November 1, 1975

A wet, bright and blustery day, but at least the fog's gone. I do not emerge until well after 12 o'clock, and I sat about reading the Daily Mail until 2pm when we had lunch.

After a lovely lunch of pork and Yorkshire puddings John took me round to Maria's, where Carole is staying the weekend. On my arrival I hear that her dad packed her suitcase for her this morning and said something to the nature of "go forth woman, and never darken my doorstep again". After a slanging match and a tearful scene, all was forgiven and he drove her to Maria's professing his fatherly love for her. Mrs P told her that they loved Carole especially because "we had to get married because of you". Being a love child doesn't always inspire automatic devotion, and if I'd been in the position of Mr P it would have brought forth feelings of complete hatred. Getting married is an obnoxious prospect to start with, let alone with the hinderance of children after only months of marital 'bliss'.

Mr & Mrs Macdonald are away for the weekend again and we, the four of us, sit listening to old Beatles LPs and 'The Sound of Music' with Julie Andrews screeching her mouth off. Carole looks a bit miserable and it's obvious she's been crying. Domestic problems in that family are a daily occurrence, and I fail to see how they have kept together for so long. She cheers up somewhat before 7pm, when I return home and leap into the bath.

I have sewn some of Dad's old police uniform buttons onto my old cheese cloth shirt, and wear my ancient denims. Back to Maria's at 8.15, and Carole accompanies me to the bus stop. I am in a great mood, and so too is darling Carole, who smiles like a cherubic angel. We only stay at the Hare & Hounds for an hour, and then move on to the Craven Heifer again. Carole, Helen L and me go with Raymond, and all the gang go with Peter. At the Craven Heifer we find Mum and Dad having a quiet drink. Lynn, Dave, Sue and Peter came too. We all had a great time and then moved on to the Cow & Calf except for Raymond, Helen, Lynn & Dave. Carole and CB hate one another. Carole and I stand with Sue & Peter for most of the night and Christine D is with her sister, Elaine, whom I haven't seen since 1971. _____________. Back to Martyn's for coffee and see Karen Cole with Mick Lynch. His Mum comes in shortly after us.

-==-

Friday October 10, 1975

Carole is still at death's door. Realising this fact, I dashed into town at lunchtime to get her a box of chocolates in an attempt to show her how much I love her. Whilst in town I get myself a pair of shoes and a pair of hideous green trousers, which I don't like at all. On my arrival home I sell them to John (the trousers that is) and I find myself £8 better off. Or do I? No, I don't, because I'd have had the £8 in the first place.

Go straight to Carole's on the 33 bus. She is propped up in bed, and her grandmother, the Dowager Mrs Phillips, is being entertained by Mrs P in the drawing room. Carole does look a lot better, and the chocolates do cheer her up somewhat. I stay half an hour and then get the bus home in time for tea. Walk up the lane with Lynn.

After tea I'm once again back down the lane to the Hare. Along with Helen and CD I go to Carole's once more and spend half an hour with her again. Lynn and Dave, Sue and Peter are also there, and Dave bought her a couple of bottles of the hard stuff. I go back to the Hare and stand with CD and Martyn Cole and Ken Dibb - who is pissed. Walk home at 11.30 accompanied by CD, who is being pestered by Richard Wellock.

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Thursday October 9, 1975

I don't go to see Carole tonight because for one thing the weather was an absolute sod, and for the other thing I was rather tired and shagged out after a hard day at work. Mrs P rang me at 9pm to see if I was going down but I told her I was just about to 'hit the sack'.

Mum and Dad have an interview for the Station pub in Ilkley tomorrow morning, and they went down tonight to give it the old 'once over'. They came back with tales of wonder, and I realise now that it's probably a blessing that they never laid possession of the New Inn. I only hope that they have some success.

Yesterday at the Hare I had a bet with Helen that Princess Anne will not have a child until 1977. Next year of course is out of the question (see Sept 22, 1975), and the spring or summer of 1977 is the first opportunity for the royal pair to give the Queen a bouncing grandchild. I have placed a pound on it anyway, which makes it a very serious proposition indeed.


-==-

Wednesday October 8, 1975

Carole is ill again. Her Mum rang me at 6.30 to say she flaked out at work and was rushed home and immediately planted in bed. After hurrying through dinner I dashed down the road to Menston, where Mrs P was carrying on as if a major disaster had befallen the House of Phillips. On being ushered into Carole's room I found a sorry sight indeed. Lying there amidst her pillows looking like death itself. I thought I'd seen the last of her, and I do so hate to see people ill because my mind goes blank, and all conversation on my part dies on my lips. I just sit looking like a spaniel in mourning, and give no comfort or cheer to the invalid in question.

I spend an hour with Carole, who angers me by predicting that I'll finish with her because she is ill all the time. Nothing is further from my mind.

I nipped into the Hare & Hounds for the last half hour and chat with CD, Helen and poor Dave (of stag party fame, who gets married on Saturday). Peter M gives me a lift up home at 10.30, and we discuss the London/Windsor excursion next week. (Uncle) John should have received my letter by now, and I hope he doesn't think I'm being somewhat rude inviting myself down like I have done.

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Wednesday October 1, 1975

Down to meet Carole at 8.15pm and sit with her mother, aunt and uncle until she is ready to go out. This family really is hilarious, and coupled with the Frankie Howerd Show on TV I was all in all on the verge of hysterics.

Go across to the Hare at about 8.45 with Carole and it's incredibly quiet. Only Helen and CD are to be seen, and the atmosphere of the place is changing weekly. See Raymond, who tells me that Dave (his little friend) is to be married a week on Saturday and is having his "stag" night tomorrow. This entails a pub crawl through Leeds and an orgy in Cinderella's afterwards. John and I are going, but I don't think any of the other lads will be. Keith isn't really 'in' with the Raymond Bond set.

To get a bit philosophical. What is love and how does one define it? This is the ten dollar question. ______told ________that she loved him and asked if he felt the same way too. His reply was that never having been in love before he needed time to make up his mind what being in love actually entails. Is it possible to go through life thinking you are in love with someone only to find that you actually never were? Carole seems upset when I say I fall in love with every girl I go out with. She says I am the only boy she's loved and cannot understand why I have managed to get hitched from the heart many times before. Am I just gullable, or is falling in love like falling off the kerb as far as I'm concerned?


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Wednesday July 23, 1975

Another queer day. More like April. It's pissing it down and I'll not dwell on the subject any more.

Work was uneventful and Sarah wasn't feeling too well. I'm willing to bet a small fortune on the subject of Sarah attending my party on Saturday. She's been very secretive about the whole business and every time I mention it she quickly changes the subject. Who cares anyway?

Home at 5.30. Mum is having tantrums about everyone and everything again. She didn't improve much either when Lynn put her foot in it and mentioned we might be having a party on Saturday night. I cringed at the mention of it. Women! Give me a family of boys any day.

The weather is horrible and I'm not looking forward to this evening's orgy with Carole at the Hare. She is all very well, but when the Queen is on TV no competition arises. I am rotten, aren't I?

Down to the Hare with John at 8.15. See Gillian and Naomi who are back from Newquay, where they had two hours of sunshine last week. John collects 'George' and Helen comes long of her own free will. Carole arrives at 8.30. She tells me her name is Phillips. Just think, if she'd been a boy and called Mark and joined the Queen's Dragoon Guards I'd now be a friend of royalty. Back to her place, just the two of us, at 10.30 and I stayed until 12.20. Walk home in pouring rain with her Dad's umberella. Don't get too wet, and on my arrival home I devour a bowl of chicken soup with plenty of pepper on.

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Saturday June 28, 1975

Last night was such a good night. It just goes to show that a change does one the world of good.

After a lazy day we all went down to the Hare & Hounds - even Sue and Peter - and I was surprised to see Helen Lockyer with the party again. She's finished with her latest boyfriend and is returned to the 'happy family' once again. We always welcome our deserters with open arms and harbour no grudges. The 'prodigal son' and all that.

I get quite merry in the Hare and at 10.30 we all, eleven of us I think, pile into Peter's van and head for the Cow & Calf. Christine tells me I'm 'off hand' but I don't think I am. Anyway, what does she expect from me? If she'd have snapped her fingers a few weeks ago I'd have been on my knees - her total slave - but now I'm hardening too. She keeps saying she'll never be hurt again, and that too applies to me.

Don't really have a good time like last Saturday. I can't stop thinking about Sarah. Why? I've known her for eighteen months, but never before have I felt so different. I've always fancied her, but never really took it seriously, or expected anything to come of it. Admittedly, November 5 was different, but I blame that on the alcohol.

Home at 2.30 in Peter's van. Ten of us coming back because Helen rang her Dad. Immediately to bed.

-=-

Wednesday April 16, 1975

Don't expect much today because you'll be very disappointed. You see, John is alseep in bed, and it's quite late at night and the brightness of the electric lighting in the room is disturbing his slumbers somewhat. Anyway, to recap on the days events: Saw June briefly this morning as Jim drove me to Leeds- just a very, very brief glimpse because we rocketed past her at about 60 mph. However, brief it may have been, but my poor little heart almost didn't withstand the excitement. From Horsforth to the far-flung reaches of Kirkstall I travelled with it (my heart) in my mouth.

Later the same day: John deposits me in the Hare and Hounds and then takes Chris and Naomi to Bradford where Gillian is propping up a bar. (Did you know that Chris and Gillian are, as they say, 'going out'?) You know now anyway. I was left with Helen Lockyer in her Pa's car I might add, Miss C. Smith and Mr A Graham. Reluctantly I'm dragged off to the Station on Henshaw Lane. Philip Knowles comes in with a blond chick and leaves after supping only half a bitter. Denis Healey must have gone to his head or something. Half a bitter! Yuk!

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Friday April 11, 1975

Friday night again. OK, so Friday night usually does follow Friday day, but it's just that I like Friday nights particularly and you'll never fully appreciate just what pleasure I get from writing 'Friday night again' at the head of the page. After all, I ought to be able to write just what the hell I like at the top, middle or bottom of any page of my own choice in this diary. I did buy the bloody thing with my own money, just in case you've forgotten. Anyway, let's not get silly about it.

Traumatic evening. Christine is in the Hare and Hounds without Gary - they had a squabble at work and he declined to say he'd take her out. I love her you know, and the thought of her going out with that emaciated little bank clerk with nine inch hips and no hair repulses me like I've never been repulsed before. But as the ancient Chinese proverb says: "that's the way the cookie crumbles'. Move on to the Tudor Bar with David, Chris, Carol, Helen, Christine D, Christine. Leave at about 10.30 for Wikis. With Christine all night, though we do not enter into the subject of our relationship until the very end. At 1.50 we go sit outside in the cool air, near Chris's car, and we talk about us. She thinks a lot about Gary and is annoyed that I didn't make my feelings known before this point. But you know what they say about true love and the fact that it never runs smoothly? Well, mine hasn't had the opportunity to run at all yet.

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Monday April 7, 1975

Back to the old routine. Up at about 7.30 and sit with Lynn over a cup of tea. Mummy didn't wish to emerge for the morning ritual of pretending to enjoy ones cornflakes and shrivelled bit of toast.

With Jim Rawnsley to Leeds. Eileen arrives at 8.30 with an engagement ring firmly secured to her finger. She gives me a cock and bull story about not really being engaged until July, but I fail to grasp the point. After all, what is the reasoning behind getting engaged to get engaged? Bloody nonsense it all is.

Go into town at lunchtime and get a card for Helen's celebratory event tomorrow. Twenty-one the poor soul is. She was so bloody pissed on Saturday I doubt very much whether she'll be recovered as yet.

Praise be to God!! Chris had official confirmation of our holiday on Saturday! It is quite sealed after all. I harboured doubts in the back of my mind that something would go wrong along the way, but feel quite satisfied now.

Haven't heard from Christine since the traumatic experience she undoubtedly went through on Saturday night. I wonder what reaction she'll give me? Her excuse the other night was that she was too drunk and too shocked to take any of it in.

Ring Marita and say I'm sending her a massive memoranda about all the references I've ever made about her in my diary since 1973. She's on the verge of hysteria at the end of the conversation. What a girl she is!

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Friday April 4, 1975

My last day as a youngster of the world. No more teens. Gone forever in the chimes of a ticking clock. The last minutes of my youth passed in the company of darling Christine and Lynn & Dave at Wikis. It was Lynn's first excursion to Guiseley's top place of entertainment.

After an hour in the Hare & Hounds Dave L suggested that we go, once again, to the Woodhouse Moor Fair. Christine, Dave, Helen, Christine Dibb and me go, then move on to Wikis - other than Dave that is. The fair was brilliant. I had five goes on the waltzer with Christine. She doesn't know that I'm crazy about her. I shall have to tell her before very long. I feel like shouting for joy at the thought of her, and just seeing her gives me a thrill like nothing else experienced by my person.

As I've already said Lynn and Dave came to Wikis with Christine and myself. We (C & I that is) danced for hours and I was choked at 1.30am when the DJ announced: 'A club member, Mig, is twenty today, and this record is dedicated to him'. It was 'How Long' by Ace. It's very rare that I am lost for words, but I just didn't know what to say. I love Christine but she doesn't know it. This will have to be remedied. Her reaction is immaterial - just as long as I can get it off my chest. Home in Helen's car at 2am. Christine and I chatted until 4.30. She slept on the settee.

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Friday March 28, 1975

Good Friday. No work - just pure, unadulterated bone-idleness. At 12.30 on a beautifully sunny, but cold afternoon Dave, Lynn, Helen and I gather in the Hare & Hounds, Menston, Yorkshire, for a little drink before departing, in Mr Baker's car, to Woodhouse Moor Fair for the afternoon. Prior to embarking on the afternoon of childish entertainment, the four of us satisfied our refreshment buds in the Hyde Park public house, upon which I'd rather not pass comment at this moment in time and feel that the comments I would surely be called upon to make are unfit to languish on the page for this holy day.

Spend all afternoon in the fairground and return with fish and chips to Helen's at about 4.30. Home after 5 where Mummmy makes us yet another tea. Mum and Dad walked from our house to Ilkley this morning in just two hours and then came back on the bus.

Down to the Hare & Hounds where Miss Christine Mary Dacre-Braithwaite joins us unaccompanied. Pass a pleasant few hours and plan to go to Wikis, but alas and alack, Gary comes in at about 10.0 o'clock. Blast and Damn him! However, still set on the idea of going to Wikis, John, Gillian and I depart thereunto. Kicked out at 12.30 - Sunday licensing on Good Fridays - bah - and back to Gillian's to see a film. I tried to have sex with her without much success.

-=-

Wednesday March 26, 1975

Another day of toil and labour. Cut the YP for a change. So much better than the nasty little EP, which sinks even lower than the lowest rags - the Sun and Daily Mirror.

A certain gentleman writer with the Yorkshire Post today expressed bafflement that no news cuttings were to be found on the new King of Saudi Arabia or Crown Prince. The mentality of some people amazes me! Everyone knows that the Arabian Royals come and go like flies, and that they have at least 300 children each, and the fact that they all have the same name makes it all the more diffucult to keep tabs on them. Khamel Hamed Aziz Woz Ben Fhadi is a prime example.

Amused by a piece in today's paper announcing that the 87-year-old Earl of Midleton is seeking a divorce in order to marry his mistress. I only hope I'll be still getting up to the usual tricks at that ripe old age. It must be a fantastic feeling.

Miss Braithwaite rang tonight and we arranged to meet at the Hare at 8.30. Oh, by the way, last night I booked Kiko's Disco for Friday April 5, and today I managed to get a coach with Rhodes's Coaches of Guiseley - £20 will be the cost - but everyone will contribute I hope. Helen will be chuffed. I'm almost certain she gave up the idea of ever seeing those plans finalised.

John took me to the Hare at 8. He stayed for one drink then took Naomi to Bradford. Chris, Andy, Linda, Carol, Christine B and Gary are at the Hare. Moved on to that revolting pub, The Drop. Home at about 11.

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Friday March 21, 1975

Lounge in bed until the glorious hour of 10.30. Shear, unadulterated luxury. Bliss indeed. However, it isn't all idleness today. It's work at 5pm - so don't think for one single minute that laziness reigns here at Pine Tops. The first day of Spring - I certainly would not have realised this on my own initiative. Mum conveyed this news to me whilst I hung longingly over my chicken soup and pork cutlets. In fact, it looks about as much like Spring as I look like the Aga Khan. Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, I haven't been all that lazy this morning. I ironed two pairs of trousers and listened to endless LPs and chatted to Miss Braithwaite via the telephone. So all in all I've done a decent days work.

Mess about with P.G Wodehouse and 'The Luck of the Bodkins' after lunch and prepare in general for my visit to the YP. Luckily, it's not going to be a miserable homecoming at 12. I'm meeting Denny outside Wikis at 12.15.

Quite a busy evening. I did manage to snatch a whisky in the Wellesley with Kathleen and Peter Chapman. Nothing startling in the news, and attempt to leave at 12 o'clock. The rain is pounding outside and my taxi is 25 minutes bloody late. I end up sharing one with a female reporter. Arrived at Wikis at some unearthly hour. Denny, thank God, had the sense to go straight in. Uneventful night. Helen is with Graham Pease. John brings Denny and me home - she intends staying the night. Discover Dave on the camp bed - the poor sod came off his brother's bike on the way over - so I camped down on the sofa, and Denny gets my bed.

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Friday March 14, 1975

Friday again. Unpleasantness abounds this evening. Never before did I really appreciate just how irresistible I am to our good friends, the opposite sex. Whilst stood in the darkness of Wikis I was in the ridiculous position of holding hands with Helen, kissing Gillian, and attempting to hold a conversation with Christine D. In the process of this orgy of activity I did realise that someone, somewhere along the line would fall foul of my polygamous frolics, and this fleeting whimsy proved to be more than just conjecture. Helen took the huff and dragged Christine off, and I ended up in the bar staring into the false-eye-lash laden eyes of Miss Gillian Upton, wealthy spinster of the Parish of Guiseley, in the County of York. This entertaining episode lasted until 2.10am, and I was well aware that it wasn't quite finished. John and Naomi dragged me back to Miss Upton's for coffee and I proceeded to cremate myself in front of the fire. Sleep crept upon me until 5.20am when John finally decided to take me home. I don't remember just what I said to Gillian exactly, but she seemed peeved about something. She fancies me when she's had a little too much to drink, but my taste isn't in her direction at all reallly.

-==-

Thursday March 13, 1975

Glorious pay day once again. God knows what I'd do, or where I'd be, if that little bundle of notes wasn't thrust upon me once a week in the usual manner.

Marita rings at about 7 and says she's bored and gives me the usual stories about how sickened off she is lately, &c. I immediately leap to her rescue by saying 'we really ought to go out for a few drinks' or words to that effect. She agrees. Picking me up at 8 we go down to the Fox at Menston. I vowed never to darken the doorstep of that hostelry again following an incident therein the other week involving Helen and Miss Dibb. However, Marita likes it, so who cares? She informs me, whilst slumped over her tonic water, that Our Lady of Bramhope is no longer a spoken for person. My heart leaps at the thought of darling Denise being once again in our midst and tears of joy fell into my ale at Marita's tale of cruelty and misery. Ade, for all his good points, dealt irreparable blows to dearest Denise, and for that alone he deserves all the evils that will surely come to him.

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Sunday March 9, 1975

4th Sunday in Lent. Reflections: Chris was a bit grotty to begin with last night, which is quite understandable, but he pulled round later on. Christine broke the news to him yesterday lunchtime, but he realised what the intention of her calling was before the fateful words had escaped her venomous lips. How long will she last with Gary? Is my love for her a remnant of those Halcyon days and hot Indian summer nights at Benton Park Grammar School? Yes, I think it might be.

Up at 12.30 to be told by Mummy that her Mother's Day present is about 15 sizes too small. Susan and Peter are to blame, and they receive the full weight of my wrath when we assemble after lunch. Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding for lunch and see the edited version of the Royal visit to Mexico on TV afterwards.

Lynn and Dave come over he settles down to fiddle with his car on the drive. Last night I realised what a jealous person Mr Baker really is. In the seating arrangements at Wheels Lynn was placed between Dave and Chris. After chatting with Chris for a while Dave was seen to drain of all colour and become very abrupt. Things improved later, but it just goes to show how many types of people it takes to make a world.

Helen Lockyer rings up later to see if I'm going out. I say I'll ring her back later but I know what the answer will be. Yes.

Ring Chris after tea but he's still in mourning for Christine and doesn't feel like going out anywhere. Dave B and Peter stayed for tea, and we had quite a laugh really.

To the Hare and Hounds with John and Naomi. Christine comes with Gary and they're all over each other at the bar. Helen comes in at 8.30 and the two of us stand at the bar for a couple of hours. Back to her place at see the last 35 minutes of an Edward G. Robinson film. Home in her car at midnight.

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